Strike That, Reverse It!
by nrfan
Summary: The Producers and Dummy Twins told in a different light, as Max helps C.C. in her mission to win over Niles.
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys I know I am way behind on reviews, but if it helps soften the blow I have begun my new story yay! Yes, Dummy Twins continuations have been done and I have expressed a lack of fondness for many but not all of them (although I did recently read a new great one on RUNHP) so I was tempted not to go through with this idea but the fact that it was different from everything else I've seen encouraged me to do it. Basically I believe Niles and C.C. are so similar that really either one of them could have been the one to step up and want to bounce into a relationship like Niles did or avoid it like C.C. did, so I switched their roles in this fic and made C.C. the one trying desperately to win Niles over so they can finally be together. That will make this a loose reconfiguration of events that happened in The Producers and Dummy Twins, but with my own twist on things as well. The tone will be lighter in this fic compared to my first one, and I'm really just trying to have fun with this so I'm open to ideas/suggestions from you guys even though I was having none of that with my baby Ringing in the Love aha. Please review, I miss reviews and since I only have this much done the peer pressure will probably help speed up the process in updates. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own The Nanny or its characters. This goes for all chapters!

Strike that, Reverse it!

Chapter One

"Fran, Darling, I've told you this before, I can't possibly feel the babies kicking through the phone, there's no need to press the receiver against your— alright," Maxwell Sheffield conceded to his pregnant wife in mid-sentence after realizing he had no choice when the sound of her adorably nasal voice was replaced with a muffled shuffle and then silence.

Sitting on his office chair he couldn't help but crack a smile at Fran's continuous antics regarding the two bundles of joy the newlyweds were awaiting. While at first he was a bit petrified of beginning fatherhood all over again, the excitement she exuded with each passing day was extremely contagious and he welcomed the distraction from work. Just as that thought crossed his mind his business partner strolled—more like barged—into the office with a more gleeful look than he was used to seeing on her face. She took determined strides and approached him quickly.

"We need to talk, I have got such exciting news," C.C. explained hurriedly, ignoring the phone on his ear and holding what he suspected was a new script contract. Maxwell's eyebrows rose in hope at the prospect and he lifted his index finger in the air, silently asking her to wait until his attention was undivided.

"Fran, Fra-a-a-a-a-n, I have got to go," he tried to maintain his patience, but C.C.'s urgency was peaking his curiosity. "Oh my, I felt a kick, Darling; I can't believe it, that was amazing!" Max squealed with delight, ignoring the blue eyes rolling in front of him. With his wife satisfied he said his goodbyes and turned to C.C. with an intrigued gaze.

She cocked her head to the side and asked a question he certainly didn't see coming. "What's the_ one_ thing separating me from being the perfect devoted wife complete with homemade apple pie?"

"You mean besides an ability to cook?" Maxwell made a valiant effort not to chuckle.

C.C. inwardly sighed knowing she probably shouldn't have come to the commitment-phobe for help in this area but she felt he could relate and so continued her cause. "This!" she thrust what Maxwell now realized was not their next big hit into his hands. He examined the perfectly smooth sheet outlining complicated recipes for exquisite dishes.

"And we need this why?" he asked, still quite perplexed as to why she needed his consultation on diet choices. Then a light bulb clicked in his head. "No, C.C., you are not making me dinner again I nearly died the last time."

"Maxwell, we've been over this, the recipe said beat five eggs so I beat five eggs!" C.C. exclaimed defensively.

"Yes, with a hammer no less!"

"I'm sorry but instructions need to be more thorough, I thought we'd moved past this," C.C.'s complacent tone urged him to move on. "And anyways that's not what this is about. These are new recipes I got exclusively from Martha Stewart while at the Hampton's last weekend. I told her all about our new play in production revolving around a talented New Jersey girl whose passion for cooking and crafts leads her straight to becoming a self-made billionaire. She loved the idea so much that she offered up these recipes for our backer's party, isn't it great?" C.C. smiled as if she'd just discovered the cure for cancer.

"That _is_ great!" Max grabbed her hands and squeezed hard. "Except for the fact that we have no such play like that in production!" his voice raised as he squeezed slightly harder.

"Oh please, that's just semantics, who cares?" C.C. pulled her hands back and waived the notion off nonchalantly. "All that matters is I have the recipes and now the backer's party we have for our _actual _play will be a huge success! So I was thinking you could get Fran to call her sister Nadine, and she could come up and help me prepare this, and then I can finally lose this ice-cold bitch image I've had for all these years— not that it hasn't had its perks," she cackled evilly.

Max rolled his eyes in turn and was surprised to see his wife enter—more like waddle—into the office in a cute flowery dress. Though C.C.'s actions surprised him a bit more.

"Fran, girlfriend, where have you been? We were just talking about you," C.C. greeted Fran sweetly and even offered up a warm hug to the woman.

"Oh you were? How . . . nice," Fran eyed the blonde suspiciously while clawing her way out of the tight embrace. She quickly walked over to her husband. "Is she still trying to convince you the babies might not be yours?" she whispered in his ear.

"I make _one_ suggestion and everyone takes it so seriously," C.C. dramatically sighed.

"No, Fran, C.C. was just wondering if you'd—wait a second I thought you were at your mother's, I just spoke with you on the phone?" Max asked her, amazed at his endless capacity to remain confused while in her presence.

"That's what I came in here for, I got one of these new cellular phones to call you from just in case we're separated while I go into labor," she fished into her red purse and pulled out the gadget, clad in a leopard print cover. "Isn't it just the cutest thing evah?"

Max observed the object skeptically. "Yes, it's adorable. In fact, C.C., don't you have one of these little toys?" he looked over to his business partner.

The two women exchanged looks of annoyance at Max's inability to get with the times. _Wait I can use this! _C.C.'s eyes lit up at the realization. "Yes, I do have one, it's actually the newest version, top of the line if you want to check it out," C.C. found her phone and gave it to the brunette.

"Ooooh, Miss Babcock, I love it! These buttons are so much nicer than mine," Fran carefully held the durable yet stylish phone.

"Have it," C.C. said without giving it a second thought. "In fact, maybe your first call can be to your sister Nadine. Max and I need her help cooking some meals for our backer's party this weekend," C.C. spoke confidently, as if the state of her heart didn't depend on this plan working out.

"Nadine? Oh, no she only cooks for her husband now, ever since a certain _incident_," Fran gave Max a look that could kill.

"What? That's nonsense," C.C. said dismissively. "I'll give her ten-thousand dollars," she pulled out her checkbook amidst Fran and Max's eyes bugging out of their sockets.

"Miss Babcock . . . C.C., Nadine is firm on her position. I've asked her to cook for many important events you and Max put on but she always refuses," Fran spoke slowly, afraid of C.C.'s reaction.

"Fran's right, I even offered Nadine tickets to Streisand once and she still declined," Max said thoughtlessly.

"You did _what_!" Fran's arms raised in shock.

"Darling, calm down. Sure I offered her Streisand, but I offered my love only to you," Max took hold of Fran's hand and placed it on his chest lovingly.

"Not fair!" Fran yanked her arm back and marched toward the door. "Just wait 'til Ma hears about this!" she yelled while beginning to dial the number on her new phone.

But C.C. was no longer in a giving mood. "I guess you won't be needed this anymore then," she grabbed her cell back, surprised at how willing she was to just give it away in the first place considering it really was the best version and not even on the market yet.

"Oy, I get _nothing_!" Fran took her old phone and slammed the office door shut.

"That went well," Max slumped back into his chair dejectedly.

Meanwhile C.C. paced the office not in her usual vigorous strides but at a slower, sadder rate, looking absolutely helpless. "Well forget it. What was I thinking?" she shook her head and then plopped down on the green sofa lifelessly. "He's only ever going to think of me as just a spoiled socialite with no real skills." So depressed and let down she didn't even realize she was speaking the words out loud.

Maxwell's ears perked at her sudden mention of feelings. "Who?" he asked, curious to know who'd actually won her heart over.

"Oh!" C.C. sat back up straight on the sofa, annoyed at letting the words out so carelessly. It suddenly made this seem more real. "No one," she tried pushing it aside, hoping these thoughts would once again be shoved away and hidden out of reach from reality.

"C.C., are you doing all this to impress a _man_?" Max couldn't hide the disbelief in his voice. He had no clue she'd been interested in someone, let alone willing to turn into some sort of domestic goddess for him. Max got out got his chair and approached the sofa, searching her eyes for answers.

She looked up at him and the concern she saw melted her heart until she finally gave in to the urge to talk to her friend about this. "Well, maybe, a little, sorta, kinda," she admitted off-handedly, unsure if she should go on.

Max saw for the first time what appeared to be nervousness in her actions as she twiddled her thumbs and avoided eye contact.

"Are you . . . in love?" his worried look turned into a hopeful smile as he sat down next to her and grabbed her wrist gently, truly happy that his partner was seemingly finding her someone at last.

C.C. looked up into his face at the powerful words and realized that finally hearing it said out loud suddenly made it all so clear. And without thought she instantly knew the answer. _Yes._ "Well maybe, a little, sorta, kinda," she attempted to downplay her words in fear of getting too excited and shouting it out from the balcony. _I'm doing this because I love him._ "But I'm just dreaming, there's no way he would ever consider me," she sighed miserably, standing up and walking to the window.

Max could not believe he was seeing her uncharacteristically admit defeat, and so quickly. He followed her, unwilling to let her walk away from the discussion. "C.C., if you feel this way about someone you should pursue it," he spoke quietly to her back. "I mean, I know you've had your infatuations . . ." he trailed off lamely, unsure of where to go on from there. He was relieved when she whirled around and stopped him from continuing.

"This isn't an infatuation," she insisted. "This is deep. I think this might really be it," her eyes had a familiar yet different sparkle to them that Max couldn't quite decipher.

"Well have you told him how you feel?" he asked earnestly.

"Oh God no," C.C. feared the reaction she'd get from him. Feared the way he'd verbally and psychologically tear her down with his inevitable rejection. Feared him actually feeling the same way. Feared screwing things up if they really did get involved. Feared losing him altogether.

"You've got to let him know," Max pleaded, knowing how much better his life has become ever since he gained the courage to take the leap with Fran. "Just look at you, you're beautiful, wickedly intelligent, successful in your own right, passionate about what's important to you, and yes, believe it or not I have discovered you do have a genuine and caring heart," he smiled gently at her, wanting C.C. to experience the joy of being with the one she obviously yearns for so greatly. If anyone deserved it she did. "What man wouldn't be thrilled to have you in his life?"

C.C. met his eyes and formed a small smile, noiselessly thanking him for the kind words, when suddenly Niles burst into the office.

"Tea, anyone?" he asked the room.

C.C. lowered her head a little while strengthening her gaze with Max, hoping he'd comprehend her silent message. _Apparently he does_, she surmised as eventually his eyes widened and jaw dropped in shock as he looked from her to the butler.

xxxxx

-Well that's the beginning, this should be about 4-5 chapters altogether. please review, and yes I am going to start my long trail of reviews tonight in case any of you authors were wondering aha so look out for that. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Hello I'm sorry this is so extremely late but my hard drive actually crashed a while ago and I lost what I had written and was too depressed to start all over again until just recently. So now I'm back on track and should be updating regularly. Happy Valentine's Day Everyone!

Chapter Two

Max kept turning his head between Niles and C.C., trying to determine if C.C. was aware this was the same man who lived to torture her on a daily basis. _And now she loves him?_ He was about to write it off as a misunderstanding, when he noticed C.C.'s eyes take a gentler, softer tone when she finally looked over at Niles. Her face remained unchanged but it was definitely clear: she looked at him differently_. Had she always?_ Completely at a loss for words, he stood still, waiting for the earthquake that was bound to ensue following this massive turn of events.

Niles mistook the producers' silence as a sign he'd just interrupted an argument between the two. Wanting to stall for any excuse to stay in the room and witness the Ice Queen in full-blown rage mode, he slowly poured a cup of tea and wordlessly handed it to his employer, knowing he probably needed it. He prepared C.C.'s tea next, and observed her intent stare when he looked up. Confidently standing straight with her golden hair effortlessly yet perfectly down at her shoulders, she was an unreachable goddess to him and it always brought a prideful feeling when she turned her full attention to him for seemingly no real reason.

"Miss Babcock," he spoke, partly to get her to extend her hand, and partly to break the insurmountable power she had over him just with a simple gaze. Her death stare he could handle, but that tender, almost vulnerable look she gave him once in a while put him on edge because he never could recognize what was going on in her head.

His baritone voice snapped her out of it, and C.C. reached to accept the cup, but when Niles' fingers grazed over hers and he didn't pull away, she instinctively rubbed her thumb over his. The brief contact alarmed both blondes and they quickly took a step away from each other, dropping the porcelain cup to the ground in the process, although the shatter was just background noise to their beating hearts.

"Honestly, I thought we'd trained you to handle teacups, do I need to put you back on doggie dishes?" Niles asked gruffly, bending down to pick up the broken pieces.

"Oh don't try to pin this on me, Rubbermaid, it's clear your decrepit old bones are giving out, do I need to look into putting you into a home?" she countered back in spite of the flustered state their interaction put her in.

This time Max watched as a slight smile tugged at the corner of the butler's lips. He saw C.C.'s eyes were also glittering in merriment in a way he had never seen when she yelled at business associates.

"What is this, foreplay?" he leaned over and whispered to C.C.

She inwardly groaned. Maxwell just didn't get the twisted relationship she and the butler shared. It hadn't started out as foreplay. In the beginning it really was just genuine sparring brought on by mutual distaste and the boredom that comes from working in the Sheffield home. But somewhere along the line their harsh tones had taken a playful turn, and hate turned into amusement which turned into attraction which turned into . . . something else. And she was now ready to explore exactly what that something was. Annoyed at her partner's cluelessness she walked over to the desk and began shuffling through some new contracts.

Max took the opportunity to speak to Niles. "A word, old man?" he pulled Niles over to the green sofa. "If you ever want to have a long-term relationship—you know with something other than the intercom—let me give you a little advice as a friend…"

"Sir, I really don't think a man who waited four years before making a move on a woman who was all over him from day one is in any position to give out advice," Niles interrupted, confused as to where this was coming from.

"Hey I played hard to get from day one; this was all part of my master plan!" Fran slammed back into the office, cell phone in hand. "You know I think this picks up on the intercom's signals," she explained quickly.

"The intercom is off," Niles said dryly.

"You would know," Fran retorted with a smile, a little peeved at her friend's words to her husband. It was okay when she gave him a hard time for taking so long to ask her out, but nobody else had that right. "Look Niles, I know you tried for years to push me into Maxwell's arms, and I'm grateful for that but I'm also glad he came to me when the moment was right."

"Yes, while I was on my deathbed," Niles reminded her while C.C. stopped pretending she wasn't listening and actively preened her head in their direction, not used to seeing the domestics argue. Maxwell, never one for confrontation, opted out of the battle.

"I know it wasn't the best timing considering the circumstances but I don't feel guilty about the outcome and if you're going to insist on scrutinizing exactly when _my husband _and _I_ were supposed to confess our love then I'm afraid there will be no place for you in this home—professional or otherwise," Fran spoke calmly but contritely before waddling out.

Shocked by her seriousness in what he thought was just another teasing conversation amongst friends, Niles rushed after her. "Mrs. Sheffield, come back, it was just two Englishmen getting a rise out of each other, you don't have to overreact like that," he called out to her while leaving the room.

"Getting a _rise_ out of each other? That is most certainly not what you were doing, believe me, I've seen Max when he's . . . risen," Fran responded as their conversation faded across the mansion.

"I love the smell of Lemon-Fresh that lingers when he loves the room," C.C. dreamily walked back over to the green sofa and sat down next to Max.

"Who _are_ you?" he turned to her completely perplexed. "Do you mean to tell me that all those years you added pepper to his feather duster, threatened to drive him over with your car, and pretty much demeaned his entire station in life while calling him a disgusting old man, you were _flirting_?"

C.C. turned to Maxwell with a slight shrug. "What no good?"

"Oh C.C. why don't you just tell him how you feel?" Maxwell suggested while taking a sip of his tea, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"No, not 'til I have more to offer him than just my millions and a rodent-like dog. I need to be able to welcome him home from work with something other than two-week old Chinese takeout. I need to be able to conjure up soup when he gets sick or whip up breakfast in bed just for the hell of it," she explained adamantly, so convinced someone with such talent would see nothing but a failure in her if she couldn't do this.

"Oh God," Max sighed.

"What?" C.C. looked over at him.

"He's never going to know," he said sadly, and they sat there in silence, C.C. acknowledging that was probably the truth and Max starting to formulate a plan. _Fran is rubbing off on me._ He quickly stood up as the idea suddenly struck him. "I've got it, C.C. You are going to make these recipes yourself," he grabbed the paper she brought in, "And I am going to help you because you're my friend and we've always been there for each other and I want you to be happy. Sara would have wanted you to be happy," he finished quietly.

They shared a touching look before C.C. smiled gently at him and gave him the out she was sure he wanted from that personal moment. "Is this your way of telling me I need to look into recasting the leading man to get more backer support?" she asked, knowing it was what he wanted.

"Maybe, kind of, sort of, alright and the role of his brother needs to be recast as well," he admitted and watched as she rolled her eyes.

C.C. thought over his proposition, secretly relieved she might still be able to pull this off with a little help from a good friend who was already indebted to her for keeping the company alive.

"Okay, you've got a deal," she extended her hand to his and they shook, both happy to be back in business manner. "The first thing you need to do is read over these recipes and collect the ingredients we'll need for this weekend," she said while they headed towards the door.

"Alright, no problem," Max was enthusiastic about this project but then looked at the actual ingredients. "Wait, this here says 'egg yolk,' Do they sell that separate from eggs or do we have to somehow extract the yolk from an egg?" his question was met with a mirrored look of confusion from C.C.

"How should I know?" she grew frustrated and contemplated deserting this whole scheme, including the part about telling Niles how she felt. She just didn't have the skills or the bravery to carry this out.

Max saw her retreating and put his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. "We'll figure this out. I won't let you make the same mistake I almost made by not following my heart," he searched her eyes for a sign she was back on board before continuing. "I know it's scary but I promise you'll regret it if you don't at least try."

C.C. brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she took in his words, thinking about where she and Niles were in their informal partnership as friendly enemies. And the more she considered it the more she came to the conclusion they were both stalling, on some sort of 'pause' button afraid to take the game any further. Afraid of getting hurt indefinitely. And she wanted so badly to move things forward, to feel his hand graze hers on purpose and not just in passing, to walk into the kitchen and talk to him without the excuse of needing more tea or coffee, to dance with him even without any music playing.

It was time. The possibility of something greater finally surpassed her fear of screwing everything up and she was ready.

With that she gave Max her brightest smile. "Of course I'll try."


End file.
